Song of the Wind
by The Reflecting Bird
Summary: The wind that sweeps across Zephyr Town is a predictable unpredictability. Is life so different? Freya and Oliver, both people of business, will find themselves pondering this question during captured moments in the course of their budding companionship. One-shot. Rating for brief coarse language.


**Author's Notes** \- Hello there! Thank you for clicking on this story, intentionally or not. I should probably say something to keep you from hitting the back button. I actually put this story together in a rather short window for me, starting in late March and finishing it in June with large gaps of not working on it. In other words, a very long period of time for most people. I probably wrote two-thirds of it in the last week, though. I wanted to wrap it up so I could focus on finishing my next chapter of _The Descent of Gray_ , which I honestly probably should have done first. If you are here to see what the heck I'm doing instead of working on that... my apologies! The next chapter is over halfway done.

Hope you can enjoy this one in the meantime! I know Grand Bazaar isn't exactly recent anymore, so this belated one-shot probably wouldn't get much attention even if it was decent. For that reason, if you do go ahead and read it, please leave a review on what you did and didn't like! If you feel bad about shaming me publicly, feel welcome to send a PM. I do periodically come back and brush up on my stories, especially shortly after release, so let me know when you find spelling and grammatical errors (unless they're intentional, which I do use here... sorry!). PM is definitely good for that since other people might get confused when they go searching for an error a previous reviewer pointed out and they can't find it since I made the fix. Enough talking! Have fun!

PS: I used the name Oliver for our GB male farmer years ago in the precursor to this story (see note at end for more on that). I saw it used a few times before as a fan name, and I just liked it a lot more than Hansel. I still do.

* * *

 **Song of the Wind**

The wind.

Maybe that's what brought Freya to Zephyr Town.

Sure, there was the change of pace from the city. But why Zephyr?

It was the wind. The ever-consistent movement, the predictable unpredictability. The way the breeze cast ripples over the water, how it fueled the windmill. Fermenting, spinning, polishing, grinding. Life itself.

There was no better view of this than the banks of the river where the waterfall poured over the cliff into the pool below, adding its own melody to the song of the wind.

Here she could sit, looking over her papers. Reading, analyzing, writing. Chasing after a paper that blew away, laughing.

Sometimes, she was out here long enough to go hungry, so she would bring a snack. Maybe a slice of cheese, or a bar of chocolate. It was chocolate when an unfamiliar man approached. She hid it. One had to keep up appearances. At least she was well dressed, and her long brown hair was well kept. Classy, but not gaudy. A benefit of always being dressed for work.

Freya didn't have time to arrange her papers before standing up, so the man casually sat down next to her with a boyish grin. She did not recognize him, but it looked like he was accustomed to giving such a smile. There was some strange dichotomy in his appearance that Freya picked up on. In most ways, he did not seem physically intimating. He was thin and of average height, and while he could be considered "cute," he didn't look like someone most girls would fawn over. Yet, there was something in his smile so honest and forward that Freya was left feeling tense.

"Oh, you're new," Freya said disinterestedly, not sure what to think. "Did you just move here?"

"Three days ago," the man specified, maybe accusingly, maybe teasingly.

"My apologies. I work in the city during the week, so I frequently miss out on what is going on in town. Sorry we haven't met. I'm Freya."

"Oliver," he returned, as he adjusted his hat. One had to keep up appearances. "I've taken up the old farm just north of here. I was from the city myself."

"Why did you leave?" Freya asked. Realizing that she was smiling, she looked back at her papers so as to not look too engaged.

A strange look fell across his face. He thought about giving a full explanation. He didn't. "Just wanted to try something new," he settled on. "What do you do in the city?"

"Market analysis." She didn't want to talk about herself. "Do you have experience in farming?"

"No. But I did business back home. I heard about the bazaar here and wanted to get involved. The mayor is helping me get up and running with the farming until I'm ready to take over."

"Business? That's vague," she said more observing than asking for details.

"I managed one of my father's stores. Basic retail."

"Sounds like a good job," she mused to herself. She also wanted to ask how he could give that up just to try something "new." She had the prudence not to. Instead, she tried convincing him to leave. "You're welcome to stay here, Oliver, if you wish. But I do need to get back to work," she told him with a half-genuine smile.

Oliver stood up quickly. "Of course you do. Market analysis is hard work. It was nice meeting you, Freya."

* * *

Sometimes they met. Not intentionally, of course. At least not on Freya's part. Usually it was next to the waterfall, or a chance crossing on the bridge. He would ask her about her work. It was going well. Freya was assigned to a new project. Then she would ask about his. It was going well. A new batch of crops was nearly ready for the next bazaar. And so on.

One day, they crossed paths at the café run by Marian and her grandmother. Then it seemed to happen almost every day.

Marian was a friend. Freya admired her dedication to her work. Somehow, she was capable of fully devoting herself to her job yet still finding the time to be kind and welcoming at every opportunity. She had rejected the advances of all the men who understandably pursued her, yet she still managed to preserve her reputation.

Freya admired her because she couldn't piece together how to do this.

Freya knew what people would say at work. She tried to adjust. At first, she was as open and talkative as she could muster. People said she was sucking up, heck, maybe even a hussy sleeping around to get a promotion. So she tried to be more reserved. People called her unfriendly, heck, maybe even a bitch that thought she was too good to mingle. So she tried to find a place in the middle. A smirk that could be interpreted as either playful or intelligent. She hadn't heard what they said yet.

Eventually, she would get it right. There was always an answer. And, of course, "the people" did not include everyone. Most did not throw around such vulgarities on the job. There were just a few, a few that would be proven wrong when she succeeded. That feeling would be worth it all.

Oliver always passed by and always said hi when he saw Freya at the café. One day, he finally stopped.

"Mind if I sit with you?" He asked while holding a cup of warm milk. "Not sure I want to go out right now in this weather." She also had warm milk. Did he notice beforehand? Did he do it to impress her?

Freya was sitting by herself at a small table next to the window. From this position, one could hear the wind howling outside, enhanced by the tunneling effect that the hillside village provided. There was still some light outside that evening, but not as much as there ought to be. It was cloudy- a late autumn snow flurry seemed imminent.

She waved Oliver to take a seat across from her. He seemed relieved. When he sat down, he took a sip from his drink, so Freya opened the conversation.

"I saw your stall at the bazaar last week," she tried.

He finished his sip. "What did you think of it?"

"Well, it seemed well run. Products were displayed properly and you worked fast enough to keep the line from getting too long."

Oliver had a playful smile. "Or the short line had more to do with having fewer customers."

"Having customers will come with time if you build up a good reputation. I heard some of them talk about your place, all of it positive."

"You make it all sound so simple," he chuckled. He took another sip. "Had a lot more moving pieces at my old store."

Freya looked him in the eye. "You've been here for a while now. Do you miss the city?"

"I don't know," he grunted. He seemed less than excited about this question. "Maybe parts of it."

"As in?"

Oliver grinned, as if he had come up with an answer much better than that he originally had in mind. "Well, for one, there's not much you can do for dates here."

"Dates?" Why did she mutter that so pointlessly?

"You know, like with girls." Obviously.

"Did you have a lot of girlfriends before you came here?" Was that a rude question? Yes, someone had asked something similar at work. It wasn't well received.

Oliver didn't care. "Girlfriends? No, I don't think it ever got that far. I'd meet a girl, have a date or two, and then fall out of touch. There never needed to be an explanation why." His words sounded like something a loose player would say, but Oliver didn't look proud about it. Just honest.

If Oliver didn't care, then neither did Freya. Her curiosity compelled her to push her luck with the questioning. "Did you not want to go further?"

He shrugged in return. "I don't know. I just wanted to be happy. And pushing things further… well, the math simply isn't good."

Freya smiled slyly. "The math in ever getting married when you aren't willing to push things further is even worse."

"Yeah. But is marriage the final goal?"

"No, I do not think so. But for someone… of your character, I thought you might want that."

"My character?" he asked tensely. Freya had found the end of her luck. She knew there was a wide range of possible reactions she could elicit from him, depending on her clarification.

"You've struck me as an extrovert. I thought you might not want to be alone."

Oliver laughed, indicating that Freya had passed the test. "I'm single, but I'm not alone right now, am I?"

He wasn't alone? Would people think they were a couple right now if the two were seen together? That would be inappropriate.

Freya found herself standing up. No, Oliver wasn't trying to insinuate anything, and she wasn't at work. But now she was standing. She picked up her empty cup.

"Sorry to say you are about to be very soon. I need to get some work done tonight." It was a very reliable excuse.

"You're going to leave in this weather?"

She shrugged. "Probably not going to get any better." And snorted. "But you already knew that… It was good talking with you."

Oliver smiled and held up his cup. "Have a blessed night, Freya." He then added, "Do good work," at the last second as she was already walking away.

* * *

Freya stood in the undercutting behind the plunge of Zephyr's waterfall, taking in the beauty of the chute that the ice had frozen in time. She moved a few steps further away. From a certain angle, it still appeared that the water was liquid. She moved closer. The way it captured the light was fascinating.

She could hear Oliver's approach from a long distance as a constant crunch of footfall. He almost passed by on his way home before noticing her. Seeing she had his attention, Freya smiled. "I haven't been out here since it froze over."

Oliver came a few steps closer. "That happened… what, a week ago? What's up?"

Freya shook her head. "Nothing serious. Just been very busy. Finished up a project yesterday."

"Yeah? How did that go?"

Freya nodded. "Well. Very well. Someone else on my project team tried to take all the credit, though. Don't tell anyone, but I never cared for her. Anyways, after our presentation, I went to my boss one-on-one and carefully explained that she had greatly overstated her contribution and provided all the evidence that showed what she had actually done."

"How did your boss react?"

"He seemed to be impressed. He told me as much. He then assigned me to a new team on a bigger project. He even seemed to insinuate that this new position could lead to a promotion if it went well."

Oliver smiled. "I'm happy to hear that for you. But you seem to have been so excited that you forgot to properly dress. How can you stand out here dressed like that?" She was dressed warmly, but not nearly as heavily as Oliver's layers and bundles. "Aren't you cold?"

"Doesn't bother me," Freya claimed. She'd spent many nights in colder temperatures as a child. The water from dissolved snow that seeped into her shoes was the part she could never get accustomed to. She was wearing thick boots, so that wasn't an issue now. Freya turned the attention away from herself. "What is that you're holding?"

"Oh, these?" he asked while holding up and flipping between two pieces of paper he was holding. "Certificates from the bazaar. The mayor always hands these out for top performers at the bazaar- one for the highest revenue and another for the highest customer ratings. I got both this week."

"Well, from one businessperson to another, I give my congratulations."

Oliver gave a small bow. "My pleasure… since you asked me, might I ask what you're holding?"

Freya looked down. She had forgotten that she was putting some of her weight on a rolled up section of cardboard that she had dug into the snow earlier.

"Oh… uhh… I'm not sure."

"Yes you are," Oliver challenged.

Freya laughed. Her laugh. It was gleeful, childlike. Not at all like her serious exterior.

"When I was a kid, my mother and I would take some cardboard to a good hill and do some sledding. This village has some nice hills as well."

"Your board still looks dry. Did you plan on using it?"

"Oh, probably not. Not sure why I even brought it out here. Just in case I wanted to."

"You should. I never got to do that. My neighborhood was flat, and the roads were always cleared of snow and ice very quickly."

That didn't sound familiar. "What part of the city do you come from?"

"Westside," he confessed reluctantly.

Westside. The rich part of town. Oliver was a rich kid as well as a player, apparently. Why was he even likable? "Is that the fashion there nowadays?" she asked with a finger pointed at the feather in his hat. It was the only part of his standard wardrobe that he was still wearing in the frigid weather.

He took the hat off in response and examined it with a chuckle, fully revealing he was wearing a beanie beneath it. "No, I added that when I came out here. I don't know, I thought it might make me look adventurous or dashing or something. I can take it out of it offends you. Wish you said something earlier."

Freya laughed again. "Not my place to judge. Guess you got lucky, as feathers seem popular here. Kevin and Dirk both have them."

"I appreciate your toleration." Oliver threw his hat back on and pointed to the cardboard. "If you aren't going to use that thing, then I am. Which hill would you suggest?"

The young woman pulled the board out of the snow. "Alright then. I'd go down the path behind us. It's long and steep, and you have room to slow down at the end. Only problem is that the slopes on the side are rather sharp."

Freya and Oliver commenced the walk up the hill. "You sure you don't want to do it?" Oliver asked her. "Maybe you could show me the way."

"I don't think you need lessons to figure this out. You get on the sled, it does all of the work, and then you get off." She held the cardboard out to him once they reached the top. "Don't disappoint."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Oliver said absentmindedly as he took it and dropped it on the ground. He sat down on it after rolling up his certificates and stuffing them in a deep pocket in his jacket. "Do I need to give myself a push to get some momentum?"

"Are you currently sliding?"

"No."

"Then yes, you need to push."

Oliver smiled mischievously. "I asked if I needed to give myself a push. Are you not willing to help out?"

Freya stared blankly. He couldn't decide whether she didn't understand what he was asking or if she was refusing. He laughed. "I'm just kidding, I've got this."

Without further adieu, Oliver buried his hands in the snow and heaved himself forward. It was enough to get him moving. Rather than sliding, though, he somehow found himself skidding. His body and the board beneath him vibrated as though thrown into a hurricane, perhaps because he launched himself over the cusp too violently. By the time he was halfway down the hill, Oliver had spun to his side and was quickly drifting off course. Freya could hear him chanting, "no, no, no" as he swerved off slope and landed on his back at the bottom.

Freya would have rushed after him had she not heard him cackling in delight. She followed him down more safely.

"Can't mess it up, ehh? Good thing the snow is thick," he joked as Freya trudged down the path.

"I've seen some sad performances in the past, but that was a new low. Usually people just tip off their board or slow to a complete stop halfway down the hill, but I don't remember ever seeing someone go airborne like that."

"I suspect the roads you usually played on didn't have gutters this deep."

Freya held out a hand to help lift the disgraced snowboarder up. "I suppose that's true."

When back on his feet, Oliver found himself fixated on Freya's eyes. There was a playful twinkle in those blue rings. Icy, piercing blue eyes that mirrored the hue of a glacier pool.

He looked away before Freya noticed. "Well," he said in an uneven voice before finding a more pleasant tone, "Guess it's me that needs to be going this time. Still need to feed the animals. Besides, it looks like sledding just isn't my thing. I've never been one to pick physical activities quickly. I won't be around, so don't be embarrassed to take it out for a spin yourself."

Freya took her board back with a smile and waved him goodbye. "It all takes practice," she said with another laugh as Oliver stuffed his hands in his pockets and started the hike to his farm. "Charms can only get you so far."

* * *

With a whoosh, piles of paper were scattered into the air as if picked up by a gust of wind. Only this one was manmade. Those that stuck to the table were punished with a hard slap. Then the whole set got to hear the verbal abuse of an angry man.

But he was cursing himself as much as the papers. Oliver had screwed up. He knew it, and now everyone knew it.

The curses kept rolling and rolling. Not even the usual calm brought by the joyful chirping of vernal birds could stop it. The curses continued until the door knocked. The curses stopped, and the door opened.

Freya stood in the doorway with a slight frown on her face and a hand behind her back. Evaluating the situation, she let herself in and took a seat at the table.

"I heard about how the bazaar went for you," she explained. "I'm sorry."

"I should never have ordered that stupid construction project. Can I get a refund if I have him take it down?"

"No," Freya said simply.

"Then how in the world am I supposed to conjure up the money to purchase enough seeds to fill my field? Nothing survived that gully washer. I had to spend the last of my reserves just to field a table at the bazaar today, and I made almost none of it back!" Oliver desperately ran his hands through his hair, nearly risking pulling chunks out. "I'm ruined, and it's just because of a bit of bad luck with the rain."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, Oliver. You made a mistake."

"How?" Oliver queried in disgust. "Not praying hard enough asking the rain to stop?"

Freya didn't flinch. "You know well what. You said it yourself. You should never have ordered that expansion. You didn't even need it."

"Raul offered me a deal, Freya. I was looking ahead. If my crops came in as they were supposed to, I probably would have made enough money today that I could have bought an animal or something, and I would have needed it then. I was trying to be forward thinking."

"Long-term planning doesn't mean you can't be smart with your money. You shouldn't have laid down a payment assuming easy liquidation of your crops. Especially at a time of the year like this when it rains a lot."

"You think I don't know that?" Oliver spat out. "Alright, I'm dumb! You're smart! Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you came here for?"

The woman reached from under the table and dropped a manila envelope onto the tabletop. A stack of green bills stuck out. "No, I came here for this," she said coolly.

Oliver stared at those bills. He wasn't sure what to feel. "No."

"You're going to be trapped in a never ending cycle of diminishing returns. You need to take the money. You have to. It's how basic business works."

Oliver looked up into those blue eyes with tears forming in his own. "Why would you do that for me?"

"Because I've seen your past success. You'll make up the difference and can repay me later with interest or an IOU. It'll be good for both of us, so long as you can keep yourself from doing anything else rash."

Freya began gathering Oliver's papers, stacking them up neatly in front of him. He sat staring into the oblivion. Despite Oliver's undeniable gratitude and her willingness to assist, Freya wasn't in the mood to deal with the farmer's negative emotions at the moment. She turned to leave but stopped in the doorway for a moment. "Because you're my friend." She stifled it enough that Oliver didn't hear her.

* * *

Freya was lying on her bed, turned to her side while looking through file after file. She had only two days to prepare before her team would present her most recent research. Two more days to find something that could go wrong. Her partners had probably stopped looking at the data days ago, assuming all was well, but Freya got a strange satisfaction of double checking and triple checking. It was altogether comforting, more reassuring each time.

There was a knock at the door. Freya jumped up from the bed with winged haste and collected her work. She dropped the files unceremoniously on her living room table on her flight to the door. One had to keep up appearances.

Freya was surprised to see Oliver waiting outside. Marian or one of the other girls would have been a more likely choice. As much as they interacted, not once had Oliver come to Freya's house alone.

The woman ushered Oliver into her abode and led him to the sectional sofa in her living room. Freya joined him on the coach but sat on the far end. She looked to him in expectation.

"I don't think I ever said I was sorry for how I acted several weeks ago," Oliver began. His mannerisms were awkward, jittery. "You were just trying to help me out, and I was a massive jerk. I… I made decent money at the bazaar this time. Second place, actually. I can afford to start paying you back some, I just need to know what interest you want."

"No."

Oliver had started to pull a new manila envelope out. He paused at Freya's dismissal. "No what?"

"I don't want your money. It was a gift."

He blinked twice, and then stumbled over his words. "You… you said I could pay you back… with interest, or some other kind of obligation."

"If I said that, I certainly don't remember meaning it. Probably just to keep you quiet."

"But what would you gain from freely giving?"

"I… I don't know…"

Oliver looked her directly in the eye, which made her uncomfortable. That was probably the idea. "Be honest," he insisted.

"I suppose… it was that I couldn't stand seeing you so upset. When I come home, I can always count on your smile, your interest. Losing that would be very harmful for me."

Oliver chuckled and shook his head. "Freya, you are the only person I know who could try spinning that to try making yourself sound selfish. No. You did it because you are a good person. You're a good person, Freya. I knew why you did it. It's just that I want you to be able to see yourself the way I see you."

Freya's eyes watered but she held them in check. She'd had friends speak amicably with her, and she'd had some coworkers talk garbage about her. But no one had said anything so sweet to her in years. Freya ultimately nodded and turned to look at the wall in front of her as if in thought, pretending to have moved on. When she gradually scooted closer and lowered her head to Oliver's shoulder a minute later, it gave away that she had not.

"I'm sorry about this," Freya apologized as she gazed at the papers scattered on her table.

"Never be. I'll always be here if you want a shoulder."

"Will you?" she whispered low enough that Oliver could not hear.

* * *

Freya sat with her knees to her chest, staring up at the blades of the windmill in front of her. Here just before the structure, she had a more undistracted view of its proceedings than in her usual spot by the waterfall. As each blade passed, she could hear an audible surge of wind. It wouldn't last any longer than a blink once the blade began its upward push.

The blades didn't stop, and neither did time. She wasn't sure how long she stayed there until she noticed Oliver drop a bag of fodder on the ground and sit down beside her to admire the windmill.

"Hello there," she acknowledged.

"How are you?" Oliver probed with some concern. He had expected to see her down at the waterfall, Freya's usual location at this time. She was here instead.

"When do you think this windmill was built?" Freya asked rather than answering. "All I know is that they built it before I arrived."

Oliver shook his head slowly. "I couldn't hope to tell you. Looks like it's been here for some time, though."

"Hm. Windmills just sit in one spot and spin forever, right? I go to work, go to the café, go to sleep, and then go back to work. Sound familiar? Sometimes I feel like I'm just spinning in the same place, too."

"Freya, what's wrong?" he whispered.

"… I messed up at work," she eventually admitted.

"What?" Oliver asked in disbelief. He had always subconsciously viewed Freya as the manifestation of the perfect employee. "How?"

"I… I should have been more forceful."

"You're going to have to give me more than that."

"Our research study. About a week ago, it occurred to me that there was an extraneous variable that we weren't accounting for in our analysis. I'm sorry, I can't say much more about that, I'm under an NDA. The point is, I brought it before the team, but they all said that it shouldn't matter. If we took the variable into account, we wouldn't have enough data left unaffected to get anything useful out of it. We'd have to start over. No one else thought it would have a significant impact, so we continued on. Yesterday, we brought the results to our boss. And today… the whole board looked through it. It didn't take long before they figured out that we sampled poorly. When they got on to us, my partners pointed out that I realized the mistake but didn't do anything about it."

Oliver bit his lip to keep his temper. "Let me get this straight. You are the only person who knew what was going on, and you're going to take the fall for it? Is that what you're telling me?"

"They're right, though, Oliver. I should have taken my concern directly to my boss."

He gave up checking his temper. "Screw that! Alright, maybe, maybe you could have. Sure. But it was your entire team that told you that you were wrong. That's hard to ignore, to annoy your boss with a question that everyone thinks is pointless. Maybe you made a mistake, but it's certainly a smaller one than theirs!"

"I'm not so sure. I should have known. They tried to convince me that the variable wouldn't affect anything… that it didn't exist. But I should have known that it was just because they didn't want to admit that they were wrong and have to start over. … I'm not going to get that promotion, Oliver, but at least I'm not going to get fired. My boss apologized to me later. Said he shouldn't have put me in that situation, where I'd have to stand up to all of those men. He said he'll make sure I'll be on a team with another woman in the future."

"That…" Oliver said with a trembling voice, "is the most sexist thing I've ever heard. At what point do you say enough is enough? This job… it's a poison."

Freya turned to him. Her expression was as icy as her blue eyes. "I live for my work. Don't tell me what to do, Oliver, or you're no better than them."

Oliver backed off, regaining control of his emotions. "I'm sorry, that's not what I'm trying to say. I know your work is important to you. But surely… surely there is somewhere else you can take it? Somewhere where you are appreciated, respected."

She shook her head. "It's all the same in the city."

"What about here?"

"Hmm?"

"What about here?" he repeated.

"Yes, I heard that, but what do you mean by it?"

Oliver's confidence grew the further he developed his suggestion. "I mean you could run a business at the bazaar. Some of us are having a lot of success."

"It's not the same as what I do at all."

"Do you think you have the skills to do it?"

"I suppose."

"Then why does it matter?"

Freya sighed. "I don't think you understand. I love my job."

"I don't think you know what you want to be."

"I've always known what I want to be. I want to analyze data. I want that data to be applied for a company that can make a real difference in people's lives. That's what I wanted, that's what I'm doing."

"Then why come here? You're far from your coworkers, where you could be building relationships that could help advance your career. You spend time on the walk there and back that could instead be put towards work… Freya, do you not think I make a difference in people's lives?"

"That's not what I mean. Of course you do."

"And do you think my job doesn't take thinking? No analysis?"

Freya smiled grimly. She had stepped into Oliver's trap. Twice. "Again, that's not what I meant."

"Then I guess I can't quite figure out what it is you're trying to say. You're going to have to spell it out."

The young women shook her head and folded back up like a clam to her sitting position prior to Oliver's arrival. "You wouldn't understand."

Oliver's face saddened. He grabbed his fodder bag and stood up. "Not if you don't let me." He took a few steps away.

"Oliver!" Freya called out so that the man would turn around. He did so halfheartedly. "Thank you talking with me. I do wish I could explain myself better."

Though Oliver's sadness remained, happiness joined in the ensemble with the form of a soft smile and a nod of the head. Was it happiness? No, that wouldn't make sense- it was something else. Perhaps love? Had Freya never noticed that before?

Oliver tipped his hat with his free hand as Freya watched him walk away. Her gaze did not break for as long as he was in view- first heading down the hill from the windmill, then around the pool, across the river, and then back up the hill to his farm. She hoped to catch a glimpse of his face, another chance to try confirming what she had seen. Just when she thought the opportunity had passed, Oliver stopped and looked back just before cresting the hill. He held his gaze for a couple seconds, scanning the area around the windmill for her, before continuing onward. He was too far away for Freya to make out his expression.

* * *

Oliver and Freya saw each other often over the next two weeks. Usually at the café. Always friendly, but never serious. It reminded Oliver of dinner with his parents after he performed poorly on a test or in a baseball game. Always unrelated, pointless discussion when he just wished they would bring up the obvious, show some sympathy, and tell him that they still loved him anyways. He was no longer a child, however. After the two weeks, Oliver had enough of trivial conversing. He was prepared to address the elephant and defend his case.

The man walked into the café and took a seat with Freya without ordering anything. This was hardly out of the ordinary, as he would oft converse some before ordering or just stop by to say hello. This time, though, he opened up with full force and no nonsense after Freya offered a seat with a smile.

"I've relented on paying interest," he declared while hopping in the chair. "I've decided to keep it all."

"Good."

"Because there's no longer a reason to give you any money. We're going to go into partnership."

Freya looked at first confused, then surprised, then almost annoyed. "Back on this? I thought we already-."

He put a hand up. "Wait, wait, wait, at least let me explain before you toss the offer aside."

She pursed her lips. "Alright, I'm listening."

"Remember when you compared yourself to the windmill? Sure, the windmill spins and spins. But why does it spin? Because it was built in a place where the wind blows. Where the wind is constant, and sure, and predictable. A place of opportunity. And that spinning brings energy. No one takes the time to build a windmill where the wind doesn't blow. We'd be partners. I could do the work on the ranch, but you would do the paperwork… make decisions on where to invest money, what to sell to Raul, and what to bring to the bazaar… and together we would run the bazaar stall. You'd be doing many of the same responsibilities you already have, just here in the village with people who will show you the respect you deserve."

Freya shook her head, but she looked very disheartened to do so. "I can't do that. I can't give up. I'd be admitting defeat if I left, Oliver. They would have won."

Oliver leaned closer. "No, that's not what it means. If you stay, you're playing a game where the rules are against you. They're probably laughing at the fact that you're so stubborn you won't try. You beat them by coming here and succeeding. If there's a mountain in your path that you can't climb, you go around the mountain, not over it."

"And what if the mountain itself is the goal?"

"Then you take the path up that's the smartest. Right now, you're refusing to leave the trail that's ending at… I don't know, a cliff face."

Freya took a few seconds to think about it, but slowly began shaking her head again.

Oliver sighed. Not one to give up, he looked around to see that there were several other people in the café who could be eavesdropping if they so desired.

"Are you done with your drink?" he asked Freya.

"I am."

"Then how about we go for a walk?" Oliver suggested.

Oliver led her down the path along the river, heading downstream away from the direction of the waterfall and towards the bazaar grounds. The two quietly listened to the tune of the running water and the surrounding wildlife. The sun had set, but the full moon illuminated the way.

"You're a hard nut to crack, Freya," Oliver opened once they were far enough from the village to be suitably alone. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Not sure about that exact idiom, but the idea, yes."

"Maybe it will help if I talk about myself, and why I came here."

"You already have. You came here for adventure and glory, or something along those lines."

"It's more complicated than that. My, uhh, father. He's a controlling man. Very intelligent, no doubt, but he always saw me following in his steps. So I did, or at least I tried. I was fine working a store… I liked the responsibility. Maybe the only area of my life that I wanted responsibility. Unfortunately, that responsibility is rather hollow when you discover you can't really make your own choices. I had to report to my father whatever I did. If he disagreed, my decisions were either reversed or never enforced to begin with. I was just a proxy. If you were ever wondering how I could have managed a store and still made some boneheaded decisions at the bazaar, that's probably your reason why. One day I had enough of it all and quit. I knew about the bazaar, of course. It was one of our competitors. A trivial curiosity, but a competitor all the same. Working for it… becoming a farmer in some podunk village… it was the greatest insult to my family I could have come up with."

Oliver chuckled and shook his head as he continued, "I know I've had some success here, probably because I can play the social element the bazaar requires better than I was able to manage from a distance. But I've made some mistakes that I could have avoided, too. You've pointed some of those out on occasion. My parents did teach me a lesson I always remembered, though. If you can't be the best, surround yourself with them. I guess I forgot that when I first came here. I wanted to prove to him that I could stand on my own. What I should have done with my freedom instead was find someone to stand alongside me that I could trust. I'd choose you, if you let me."

"So do you really want to be here?" Freya asked in a tender tone. "Or are you letting your bitterness keep you from doing something you'd rather be doing?"

Oliver delayed a few seconds to answer. "I don't want to go back to the way things were. Maybe you were right about me, Freya. I don't want to go back to going from one date to another. I want something more solid, predictable. I suppose I have that here."

By now, the two had reached the bazaar grounds. The stalls were empty, lifeless. The loud clap of their feet moving along the cobblestone hinted at the volume that the guests of bazaar day could produce. Freya found one stall and took a seat on it. Oliver joined her.

"I don't come here often during the bazaar," Freya noted as she ran a hand against the stall's smooth wooden top. "The noise, chaos… it's a bit unfamiliar for a workplace. It more closely resembles the apartments my mother and I lived in. My father passed away when I was very young. I suppose we both have father issues. He didn't leave much for us, so my mom worked long hours to provide for me. Sometimes we'd go downtown and she'd show me the skyscrapers. She'd point at the names on their sides and say that if I studied hard now, I could work there some day. Then, I wouldn't have to worry so much like she did." Freya looked up to Oliver and smiled ruefully. "So I did just that. Now she doesn't have to worry about me. And one day, I will have enough to provide for her when she is no longer able to work."

Oliver returned Freya's gaze long enough to gauge her thoughts. He then nodded and turned away. "I've never met your mother, but I can tell she just wanted the best for you. To her, that meant working for some big company whose name that she would recognize. But it's not her image of what success looks like that should make the two of you happy… it's yours. And I'm sure she'd more than understand if you told her you wanted to leave that behind."

"I know she would support me," Freya sighed. "But supporting me won't help me make money for her."

Something came over Oliver unexpectedly. A swell that passed over his whole body. It presented itself as Oliver putting his left hand on Freya's right. "I promise you, I'll make sure she's taken care of. You have my word."

He wasn't sure how much his word was worth, but Freya did not retract her covered hand. "I believe you," she whispered.

By this time, the moon was lowering in the sky and risked dipping below the silhouette of the mountains. By the time Oliver dropped Freya off at her house, only the lights streaming from village windows illuminated the scene. Freya stood in her entryway leaned up against the open door as she said her goodbyes.

"I just need some time to think about it all," she told him gently. "But regardless of whatever I decide… thank you for the offer… and thank you for talking with me… and listening… you told me once that I'm a good person. I'm sorry I never said 'you, too.' You're a good man, Oliver."

For a moment, it looked like Freya might reach out and give him a hug. Instead, her hand quivered on the door for an instant, trying to decide whether to open it further or close it. She decided to start closing it.

"Good night," she told him as she commenced the door's swing shut.

"Good night, Freya."

* * *

Five days went by. During that time, Oliver only saw Freya once for a brief moment in the crowd of the bazaar. Maybe it was just a trick of the eyes. She was never in her usual spots- the waterfall, the windmill, the café. Searching for her at the house would be too aggressive.

Oliver feared the worst. After everything, she had decided to stick with the status quo. The moment of hope that night at the bazaar grounds was just that- a moment. Freya was too embarrassed to tell him as much, so the uncomfortable evasion would continue.

After a morning tending the fields, Oliver showered and took a seat at his table to set about tallying his inventory for the next bazaar. It was good experience; if he couldn't find someone to help him, he'd have to struggle through the details by himself.

He was invested enough in the chore that he flipped his pencil into the air in surprise when he heard a knock at the door.

He opened it to find Freya standing there with her hands behind her back. She was smiling bashfully. The wind was blowing hard, causing a stream of hair cover much of her face. Good. Maybe he wouldn't see the blush.

"I've made up my mind," she said.

Oliver stared stupidly at her. Was he supposed to say something? He didn't.

"I'll do it," Freya finally announced. "I'll be your partner."

A smile formed on Oliver's lips. Then a chuckle. His whole life he had been called an optimist, yet he had spent the previous five days wallowing in complete certainty of rejection. And on what evidence? He rushed in to give Freya a hug. She slowly returned it.

"What made up your mind?" he asked when they had let go. He leaned up against the doorframe and stuck his hands in his pockets to act imperturbable.

"I thought about what you had said. Then I went to the bazaar yesterday. Like you and your father, I always viewed it as a novelty in the past… a cute thing the village puts on. This time, I tried to see a business. I saw things I liked, and I saw things I thought could be done better. I saw the smiles of customers who were just happy to be there. I'm not used to seeing the customers." Freya grinned cunningly. "Then I thought of the smile on my face once the lousy portion of my coworkers see what I've been able to do without them."

Freya looked down and put her hand on a red jewel strung from her neck, probably the most expensive thing she owned. "I spoke with my mother about it. Explained to her why I wanted to leave."

"And she was fine with that?"

Freya looked up with her characteristic smirk. It surprised her that the smirk was natural. After all that. "Don't rub it in. Like I said, I already knew she'd say she was fine with it."

As far as Oliver was concerned, a "yes" and a hug was an adequate contract. Freya, however, wanted the partnership on paper. Oliver complied with her request, allowing her to write it up since she looked rather excited about the task. A percentage of the total bazaar revenue up to that date was to be considered Oliver's salary, while the rest would be bundled up into the assets of their new "company." The two argued some about whether Freya should receive some of that income. Oliver pointed out that Freya had made an investment that could now be cleanly paid back, while Freya countered that the amount was less than the personal funds Oliver had put into getting his ranch operating. Eventually they compromised by giving her a trifling amount. Going forward, the two would decide each week what percentage of the bazaar revenue would go to personal income, which would be split equally, while their company would retain the rest.

Both were delighted to sign their names on the document so they could relax at long last. The farmhouse was stuffy, so the two went for a stroll to Zephyr. They walked arm in arm.

"Would it be rude if I asked you how many girls you've walked like this with?" Freya questioned, shaking her arm to clearly identify what she was referring to.

"Not at all. The answer is zero."

Freya turned her head quickly. "Is that so?"

"Never did anything like this on the first date. Neither the girls nor me ever tried giving the illusion of such devotion. Those few I actually spent more time with, I always held their hand."

"Why change now?"

"Because we're in a partnership, not a relationship. Isn't a relationship with a coworker usually considered inappropriate?"

"Depends whom you ask. From my experience, it was usually an understood, unwritten rule," Freya mused. "But then again, we do have the authority to alter our contract however we desire."

Oliver looked over to Freya in some amount of astonishment. She began to chuckle at his reaction. By the time they passed over the bridge, both were roaring uncontrollably.

Upstream, a knoll with a windmill stood tall over the pair. There the windmill spun. Energy, Power, Produce. The Cycle. Life itself.

* * *

 **Author's Notes** \- Thanks for reading! The idea for this actually originated with an older story that I began writing closer to when GB actually came out. I never quite finished it, which the world should be thankful for. Garbage as it was, there were a couple elements that I actually did like, namely the relationships between Oliver and Freya as well as Oliver and Ivan. The first of those obviously was brought back and expanded upon in the form of this one-shot. The second didn't really fit here, but I do hope to bring in elements of it in later stories.

Fun fact: if you've read any of _The Descent of Gray_ , you might pick up on some similarities between Oliver and the Jack in that story. That is because Jack was inspired from my original vision of Oliver when I didn't think the character would be revived. I find it funny how it now seems like Oliver is a bit of a rip off from Jack when it's more so the other way around. There are some important differences, though, so I don't feel the need to go back to make the two more distinguishable. Just a funny historical element there. We might see some more parallels in future chapters of _The Descent of Gray_ , so you get a sneak peek of sorts by reading this. Let's keep it a secret!

I'm done rambling. Thanks so much!


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